Freetown Generation
by DeathbladeMeister
Summary: Seventeen years after the Battle of Hogwarts, old wounds still cut deeper than ever and the houses are more apart that at any prior point in history. But when a muggleborn joins the losing side, enough chaos may bring the school into a new generation. Human AU. [Collab between DeathbladeMeister and aronpuma]
1. Chapter 1

**Freetown Generation**

 **Hey Person, welcome to Freetown Generation. I'm Aronpuma, the coauthor of this story. Myself and Deathblade hope you enjoy our little (DbM: Little? HA!) crossover and that you'll enjoy our OC protagonist. Rest assured, there are PLENTY of canon characters both Harry Potter and Hetalia, and yeah, we know Mary Sues exist. We don't (DbM:** _ **try**_ **not to, it is subjective, and yes, she is a little shit) write them.**

 **Triggers: Drugs, Yaoi pairings, Yuri pairings, OCs', Crude Language, References, Bull Penis (referenced) and 420 Blaze It.**

 **Also, we don't own Harry Potter, we don't own Hetalia, and we don't own any Danish Flag Pyjamas.**

 _Chapter One: Danish Flag Pyjamas_

* * *

 _Dear Miss Christina Kohler,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find an enclosed list of all the necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on 1st September. We await your owl by no later than July 31st._

 _Yours Sincerly,_

 _ **Filius Flitwick**_

 _ **Deputy Headmaster**_

Miss Christina Kohler, resident of 420 Freetown Park, Whitechapel, examined the letter that had hit her on the head when she'd gone to collect the post that morning. Normally the ex-tree based communications network only brought bills, pizza leaflets, bills, free cash for gold adverts, bills- and now a letter in the face. It was addressed to her, not her dad, which was weird, and it used her full name- the only other use of which was on her birth certificate.

Stina, as she preferred, would normally beat the shit out of anyone who used the so-called 'correct' variant of her birth name. Hoping to at least land a solid scream and an internet-worthy photo, she opened the door to give the offending postman a good beating with a bull penis cane (ordered before she closed down her dad's eBay account) but there was no-one present. Just a very suspicious hooting.

She turned the piece of parchment over in her hands. Fuck knows if she knew what 'Hogwarts' was. She yelled down the small hallway to her father- an almost certainly futile avenue of inquiry. If Stina was average, her dad was just kind of a moron.

"Hey dad, what's a Hogwarts?" called Stina.

"A what?" yelled back her father.

"A Hog. Warts," volleyed back Stina, rereading the word on the unexpected letter. Really, any letter was unexpected these days, and not because there was no one who would really write her a letter- mostly. No, mostly because it was the twenty-first century and who wrote letters? Certainly not her friends, who were, by no means, a multitude. Well, Erica might send her letters, but Erica was as far from normal as any sane human could be.

"Is this some kind of riddle?" asked her father as his footsteps echoed through the apartment to her room.

"No, it's a school apparently," she said, as she saw her father open the door to her room.

Matthias Kohler was a young man- almost too young to be the father of an eleven-year old. He'd just gotten out of bed, and it was evident- his hair was more disheveled than usual- and he was still in his kind of patriotically pathetic red pyjamas with the little Danish flags on them.

He quickly spotted the letter. "Can I see?" he asked, reaching his hand out, going to take the letter anyway. Stina was familiar enough with this behavior as she let go of the leathery paper and gave a mumbled 'whatever' accompanied by a shrug.

As customary, he ignored the rude gesture as he sat down on her bed and scanned the letter, scowling the further he got. His hand quickly flipped to the next two pages of the required materials before he slammed down the letter in a huff. "Stina, don't get too attached to the idea of this school."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because you aren't going to go," he said flatly. "I don't know how they found you but you aren't going."

"But I'm magic," Stina said, frowning. "And like… you've never said magic is a bad thing."

"It isn't," her father said. "And there's nothing bad about you being magic, but you aren't going, simple as that."

"Why not?" Stina asked, taking a distinct dislike to being told what she could not do.

"Look at this," he said, turning to her and flailing the paper. "There's nothing on here! No return address, no phone number, no website, no tuition price listed."

"Maybe there isn't any," said Stina. "Maybe it's free."

"Stina, we're in England. They want money for _everything_ ," returned her father bitterly.

"We only moved because the beer was more expensive in Denmark." muttered Stina, rolling her eyes.

"We are not talking about this now!" replied her father, raising his voice. "And you are not going to a school I know nothing about!"

"What if it had free tuition?" said Stina. "What then?"

"I don't know that, and quite frankly I don't want to deal with some English shitheads that expect us to know everything about it," said Matthias. "Especially if it's magic. If they want you then they better give me more than three pieces of paper telling me what _I_ have to buy with my own money."

He then took the letter and walked to his office, pulling out a ballpoint pen to scribble out his reply in the illegible font that was for some reason called handwriting. Stina ran in after him.

"Come on dad, I wanna go," she whined, trying to grab the letter from his desk.

He held her back, his palm open on her forehead, leading to a vain attempt at an aimless walk. "I am sorry, but my decision is final," he said, writing out his no, then folding up the paper and putting it in an envelope.

"Fuck you!" shouted Stina. "This is just like the joints all over again!"

"Hey, watch your fucking language young lady!" he shouted back, walking out to the door and to their mailbox. "If they're so magic, then they can find this, copy it with their fancy-ass wands, and each stick it so far up their asses they can puke it out next Tuesday!" He nearly smashed the damned thing by how hard he closed it, and then walked back inside.

* * *

Professor Flitwick sipped his tea pleasantly on the sofa of the living room of the small apartment, as the two-person family sat awkwardly. One would think that if anyone would have an awkward seat it would be Flitwick, due to his short stature. Most places had slightly awkward furniture compared to the size of the teacher, but with the Dane's, it was almost comedic.

"I hope all that clarifies things," he said in a jovial tone to the two of them. "I'd like to apologize on behalf of the school that we didn't inform the two of you sooner. There is another matter however, and if I may request a private conversation with your father, Miss Stina."

"Why alone?" she asked, glancing between her father and the stranger. Surely it was nothing she couldn't handle, she was _eleven_ for fucks sake.

"Stina, go to your room," said her father. "Us adults need to speak alone."

"N-"

"Stina?" he said slightly louder, but softer, and certainly sadder. "Please."

"Fine," she grumbled, standing and walking to her room moodily. Her father sighed, running a hand through his perpetually spiky hair.

Once she had shut the door to her room, she knelt down at the keyhole, eavesdropping. Flitwick spoke in a more hushed tone. "Mr. Kohler, we understand your concerns about your daughter going to our school-"

"She's still there, isn't she?" interrupted the Dane.

The elder professor nodded, "She is, Mr. Kohler. We had assumed she would have informed you about the letter before it was sent."

"We don't talk," said Matthias. "I've not seen her in nine years. And I don't want to see her again."

Flitwick nodded. "No one is going to make you talk to her if you do not want to, but I can tell you that she cares about Stina dearly, as much as you do."

The Dane did not speak in response.

"She is going to protect her just as much as you would. Stina is going to be quite safe. I cannot think of a place where she'll be safer." Flitwick continued.

"She's safer here." said Mr. Kohler.

"Perhaps," said Flitwick. "However, my concern with her well being does also involve the matter of her magic."

There was a brief pause, with an awkward silence between the two men. "Go on," frowned Matthias.

"No matter what you choose, her magic is going to blossom. And if not channeled, often... it will become much more erratic," said Flitwick. "Magic can be one of the most marvelous gifts, but it can prove ill if not developed. I know she must have experienced some rather unexpected developments from magic already. That would be natural."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Matthias, who of course was not thinking about the time every pig in the market gained an unshakable scent of weed or when Siri and Stina swapped voices for a day or the time After Earth was successfully routed as a terrible movie before he was going to pre-order tickets for it.

Flitwick gave him a knowing smile. "Well, if it hasn't happened yet it will happen soon. Magic and puberty… it can be turbulent."

"You've given this speech before," said Matthias.

"I've been teaching for over fifty years Mr. Kohler, I've seen many many young witches and wizards. I have also seen the effects from muggle parents who did not send their children to Hogwarts."

"There are surely other options for a magical education." said Matthias.

"None on the British Isles." said Flitwick.

"In Denmark..." started Kohler.

"There is no large school," finished Flitwick. "Young Scandinavian wizards and witches attend Stor Stor Slottet, which is somewhere on the Norwegian-Swedish border. And their Headmaster is not always the most accepting of anything associated with the English."

The Danish muggle nodded, "So where do students like Stina go?"

"Hogwarts, it's the best option," said the charms master.

"What are the other options?"

"France."

"Point taken," sighed the Dane.

"And then the next closest academy is the Munchausen Krankenhaus in Austria, and it's tuition is both overpriced and lacklustre. Most of those end up at Durmstrang, in Bulgaria." continued the professor.

"What about private instruction?" Matthias asked.

"It can prove to be very expensive, but tuition at Hogwarts is subsidized, practically free, depending on certain circumstances. Especially with her on staff." said Flitwick.

"Books and equipment?" The Dane frowned.

"She offered to pay for them all," said the professor.

Matthias sighed, leaning forward in his chair and rubbing his temples. He swallowed, then finally spoke. "She will go then, on one condition."

"Yes?" asked Flitwick.

"My daughter will only know her as the other students do, I don't want her to know of any other relation." said Matthias.

"She doesn't already?" asked Flitwick.

"No," said Matthias. "And it's going to stay that way until she's older."

Flitwick gave a nod, "I shall inform her Mr. Kohler. It was a pleasure talking to you. Should we call Stina back in?"

"I suppose," said Mr. Kohler, standing up and walking to her room. He looked down at his daughter, who was lying in bed. Fortunately her father only noticed the phone she appeared to be putting away, rather than the sweat beading on her forehead. "We're done, come back in, we have to say goodbye to Mr… Felicis," he said.

"I thought his name was Filch," said Stina.

"Now now Stina, it would be rude not to call him by his proper name, now let's get back to Professor Felix," scolded Matthias.

Stina sighed, but stood up and followed her father back to Flitwick. The old professor smiled. "Is there anything else either of you wish to discuss?" asked Flitwick to the two of them.

"Not really," murmured Stina, her mind running much too fast on more important conversations to focus on any more information.

Matthias reached down to shake his head. "We thank you for your time Mr.." he hesitated.

"Flitwick," finished the professor, taking his hand.

"Flitwick," repeated the Dane, shaking his hand.

Flitwick then turned to to the girl. "I'll see you in September," he nodded. "Feel free to get a head start before charms class, I find the book quite lively myself."

Stina nodded and muttered a "see ya", too distracted to remember that she was supposed to be excited that she got to go to Hogwarts, or to snort in disgust at the idea of _unnecessary summer homework;_ fortunately, her father did make a bit of a face.

Flitwick chuckled to himself and headed for the door. "Take care," he said with a wave, before disappearing behind the door.

"That was rude, even for you," said Matthias, turning to his daughter.

"Huh?" she said, looking up at him with a blank expression.

"Whatever," he sighed, exhausted by his conversation. "At some point we need to go shopping at um… Diagon Alley, that's what he said. I can't believe they sell everything wizard in just an alley."

"Maybe there's a wizard Amazon."

Mathias chuckled. "I doubt it."

* * *

Walking through a wall to a secret platform felt humbling, like an immersion into a secret place, where most people can be fine living without but now that you'd discovered it, you could never let it escape you.

 _Oh, wow. Poetic thinking. Need to stop sniffing Sharpies._

Boarding the train just minutes before it set off, after waving a short embarrassed goodbye to her father that was entering another world entirely. And that world was decidedly describable by one word:

Antique.

When she approached, she could have sworn she was boarding the Polar Express if it weren't September, and nobody was wearing pyjamas. Which was a shame, pyjamas were boss. The interior with its seats, lighting, wallpaper looked practically Victorian or whatever era was this ornate. The people also seemed to fit the era, at least style-wise.

She walked though a few of the carriages, immediately passing over the first couple, which looked as if they hadn't had any repairs in the last twenty years. She couldn't see many t-shirts or hoodies among the crowd except hers; hell, she wasn't sure if she saw any. There was the odd sweater and jeans, which was fairly normal, but most were already in the hideous robes she'd had to buy for school or in suits- _suits,_ for fucks sake. It was almost thirty degrees Celsius outside, and these _skoer_ were wearing suits.

And pretty much all of those _skoer_ seemed to know each other. The casually dressed, incredibly out-of-place millennial finally saw a car with two people who looked her own age inside and opened the door. "Hey?" she asked, attempting to sound casual around the wizard people.

Both looked up, prepared for a verbal confrontation. It was a boy and girl, her already in her uniform, the boy nervously pressed against the window, twiddling his thumbs. The bright ginger girl spoke first. "Hello."

"Hey," Stina addressed again with a small wave "can I like..." she paused, hesitating on the words, "sit here for the ride?"

The two looked at each other: The boy seemed apprehensive, but the girl was perceptive, and she seemed to notice the distinctly unmagical nervous tone of Stina's voice. She turned back to her. "Sure."

"Thanks," she said, getting in and slipping down in a seat. She ran a hand through her short hair and settled back. It was doubtful she would remotely know them. She was distinctly muggle-looking anyway, with Danish band logos printed across her chest.

"I'm Rose, Rose Weasley," the girl then said, by way of introducing herself, "And this is my cousin, Albus." The young witch started to search Stina's face suspiciously for any sign of recognition.

"Oh um... I'm Stina, Kohler" she greeted. Her tone had significantly calmed, but it decidedly was devoid of any form of recognition; however, she was examining her eyes. The green eyed Dane was looking at Rose's eyes, trying to see why they were looking at her with suspicion.

The boy then spoke up. "Kohler?" he asked, swiftly followed by a sharp crack as Rose slapped Albus on the back of the head.

"Ow!"

"Is that a problem?" Stina gaze shifted to him, darkening.

Rose desperately tried to cover her cousin's' insensitivity. "Ignore him. He's an idiot. He has no idea how to talk to anyone- he doesn't get out much," Rose sighed and lowered her voice and revealed, "Girls make him nervous." Albus looked indignant, but denied nothing in his ensuing silence.

Stina looked to Rose, her face relaxed slightly. She then turned back to Albus and spoke bluntly. "Step one to conversation: don't do shit that kinda sounds racist out of context."

"Step two to conversation: don't assume every remark the other party says is a personal attack," Rose cut in with a smirk.

"Well, it was worth it for the look on his face when you slapped him," Stina said, returning the smirk.

Rose laughed, throwing her head back and making her bright red curls bounce around her shoulders. "I think we're going to be good friends, Miss Kohler." She leant back casually. "I didn't know anyone else our age read 'Conversations with Morons' by Luka Bondevik."

Stina raised an eyebrow. "Hmm? What's that?"

Rose looks surprised, and a little disappointed. "Oh, sorry. I assumed you were quoting 'Conversations with Morons.' I love that book." She indicated to Albus. "It takes a lot dealing with his side of the family." Albus remained sulking, and had proceeded to stare out of the window at the miles of empty fields.

"No, never heard of that book... I'd think I'd have something like that, weird," she said, glancing at Albus. "I dunno, my dad said my snark was hereditary, whatever that means."

Rose shrugged. "Are your parents Muggles?"

"Are they what?" she asked. Stina'd heard that word before- the man in the potions shop had said it when her dad had asked if the essence of cyanide was edible.

Mathias said it apparently smelled like almonds, but needless to say, it was not, in fact, suitable for human consumption. Healer Alcide had explained that to them later after two hours in the new Diagon Alley Accident and Emergency clinic.

"Non- magical people," Rose clarified. "I'd take that as a yes, then?"

"Well, my dad is."

Albus's curiosity had been piqued. "What about your mum?"

"Don't know her." Stina said. "Apparently she was magic, though."

Albus shrunk back in his train corner, "Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to say anything." Rose shot Albus an evil look, burning him with her blue-eyed gaze.

"It's whatever," said Stina. "Dad hates her, and she doesn't have custody, and I don't have time to care about it."

"Mmm.. okay." Albus remained in his corner while Rose is sat awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.

All three shared a moment of deafening silence; then suddenly, a great cheer and scream shot down the train, with a loud thundering of feet charging behind. Albus groaned, and Rose rolled her eyes. A taller, around third-year boy in a loose red-and-gold tie ran into the train car; two mixed-race twins ran even further past them.

The boy grinned with his astonishing bright-white teeth standing out against the jet-black hair he shared with Albus, and eyes like limpid tears . "Guys you gotta come see this- me and Fred and Roxanne threw a crate of dungbombs in the Slytherin car and Vargas is going mental!"

"Dungbombs!? Are those as awesome as they sound!?" Stina exclaimed.

He noticed Stina for the first time, grinned even wider, and nodded. "I think one of them was eating Elizaveta Hedevary's hair when we left."

Suddenly a vicious scream rang out, and James hit the floor swiftly as a frying pan flew down the train car corridor. He pulled himself off the floor with a pleased; no, _sadistic_ grin. "Okay, I'm gonna run now." He flicked an, 'I'm watching you' sign at Albus, then added: "Don't be a Slytherin, lil' bro." He then ran off, followed by a girl in a patched uniform with fire in her eyes.

Stina looked back and grinned at the both of them,. "Alright, now I have an ideal weapon, and the people I'll probably end up fucking with, I just need to know where to get that shit."

Rose rolled her eyes sarcastically. "Please don't. My cousins are all idiots, with the notable exception of the French ones, which probably says a lot." She indicated to the door. "That's James, and two of my other cousins, Fred the second and Roxanne- they're the worst of all of us."

"Well, whether or not they're idiots, I need to know where I can get that kinda magic prank shit. Might have to one up them just cause," she said, getting out her phone. "Oh, you guys know the wifi password?"

Albus groaned, and Rose giggled.

"Huh?" Stina blinked.

"Not this shit again," sighed Albus, and at the same time, a "There isn't one." came from a smirking Rose.

"What?" Stina asked, looking up at them both, her smile fallen.

Rose shrugged apologetically. "Wizards don't get wifi. Magic interferes with it. We used to have a box at home, but my grandpa broke it trying to figure out how it worked. It was pretty crappy anyway- my dad wouldn't let mum upgrade from dial-up."

Albus just looked incredibly blank. "I don't even pretend to understand what she just said. My dad doesn't like technology too much." He glanced down at her phone. "Is that a new thing Muggles use?"

Stina's jaw did a comedic drop, just sans the sound effect, and add the silent scream of pure, uncensored terror.

"It's not... that... how do you not recognize a phone!? Or wifi? That's, like, universal."

Rose explained. "Wizards talk face-to-face or use a spell called the Patronus Charm. And Al doesn't recognise a phone because his family never leaves his stupid giant mansion."

After a horrified pause, "Is there internet at least?" Stina tried to implore.

Rose shook her head. "Nope. Potter Manor is devoid of any technology beyond 1989. Al's dad won't even let them have a computer- he says it does evil things to children's minds."

Stina shook her head, "That's... that's fucked up." she said

Rose sighed nonchalantly. "That's wizards. You know you're fucked up when your grandparents are more progressive than your parents." She shook her head, and changed the subject. "Do you know about the houses yet?"

"Those are like... dorms right?" asked Stina.

Albus, finally finding his voice, expanded. "No... not really. I mean, you do sleep in the same quarters and stuff, but it's more like a family."

Rose had her own, lighthearted take. "Warring families. That all hate each other."

"That's a nice way to run a school," Stina returned with ample sarcasm. "Divide them so they won't fight together."

Albus shrugged."It's just always been that way. Don't change the system when it's not broken."

"Well, why are you assuming it isn't broken?" Stina asked.

"Parental indoctrination combined with a great multitude of unfortunate evidence that Sorting does in fact almost certainly guarantee career paths." Rose said, grimly.

"So systemic bias." Stina crossed her arms. "It needs to be fixed, that and wifi."

Rose smiled again: "All in good time. So where do you think you'll go?"

"To a house," Stina shrugged. "I don't know shit about this place."

"What's your favourite colour?"

"Green."

Albus balked. "Umm... I gotta go to the bathroom. Get changed, you know?" He left, and Rose sighed. "Ignore him, he's being stupid." She opened her purse. "Want to get a pumpkin pasty?"

"Pumpkin?" asked Stina.

"It's better than it sounds, trust me."

Stina uncrossed her arms then and flashed a small smirk. "I won't trust you, but I'll try it anyway. You pay."

* * *

"Firs' years, this way." said a large, burly voice from a large, burly man. Stina saw that adults in the wizarding world came from all sizes- this enormous mass of greying beard was reaching almost seven feet in height.

She wondered why the first years would be separated and glanced back at the upper school, but she was soon herded along with the rest of her age, near the tail end of the line.

They carried on walking, and Rose and Albus pushed through to the front of the line, to talk with the giant man. As the rounded a corner from the forest, they approached a large lake, which Hogwarts was presumably across from.

Looking ahead, she saw all the people being shipped into small row boats, drifting across the water to a large castle. She gaped in an astounded awe at the sheer scope of her school- she'd seen castles before, but holy mother of fuck, no wonder this was considered magic. She was paused enough that she hardly moved until the giant tapped her on the shoulder, which felt more like a punch to be totally honest.

"This way," he said "there's only two boats lef'."

"Yes sir." she said, quickly hopping into the boat she was directed towards. The boat seemed to also be carrying people who were in awe of the castle, but she thought she heard the low mutter of 'muggleborns' from another boat. That boat was the last to leave, a ramshackle old boat that seemed to have some not nearly as astounded young wizards.

Their boat was much more haphazard, and seemed to flow not quite as well as the others, but Stina noticed on their trip that the paint was the same, and the boat had the same year written on the side- 1997. It just didn't have the same care or something.

Stina then turned her gaze to the occupants of the vessel. It was harder to make out in the twilight, but she counted seven. The general mood of them seemed to be misery, as if on a march to the scaffold. She squinted a bit, trying to make out the two in the front- the ones behind them were obscured by the late-night shadows.

The one to the left stood out from the normal British dull, with slightly darker skin and what looked like lanky, black hair. His robes were shabby, and patched, like the girl who had thrown the frying pan at James earlier in the day. The figure next to him was more well to do- he had blond hair, but also seemed to have hand-me-down robes. However, his had been well cleaned, as if trying to retain the vestige of a dignity his forbearers had long ago let slip.

Stina turned back and could see the turrets of the Scottish fortress reach toward the sky, windows glinting yellow by candlelight. They had reached the other side. The students disembarked, one boy almost tripping back into the lake.

They all ascended the staircase up to the grand wooden doors that towered over twice the giant man's height, and inside the enormous entrance hall were greeted by a short man in his mid-thirties. He had black hair, and was quite robust, but not enough to be called fat, and very prominent ears. The giant presented his children.

"The firs' years, Professor Longbottom." he announced.

Small, scattered giggles echoed from a few of the students in Stina's boat. They were soon muted by the silence and the shushes from the others, who looked scared, shocked or scandalized. The professor cleared his throat.

"Thank you Hagrid. You can leave them with me now."

Hagrid nodded, then left off for another door it would seem, on a route the giant had for a long time tread. The professor addressed the students.

"Hello and welcome to your very first year at Hogwarts. I am Professor Longbottom, Head of Gryffindor House here. Hogwarts is a proud school, and we trust you all to uphold that pride when you are Sorted into your new Houses- Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw-" he paused, seemingly hesitant- "and Slytherin.

"We trust all our students to work together within their House in harmony, and to show the other Houses the utmost, due respect. Hopefully you, and those that come after you, can band together to make a happier, more peaceful, Wizarding World. Please wait here quietly as we ready the Great Hall."

Longbottom left, barely ten seconds passed, and then immediately everyone started talking.

Stina leant over and hissed at Rose. "What kind of hippie bullshit was that?"

Rose looked around nervously. "It's just House stuff. I'll explain it later."

"Alright." Stina said, still inquisitive, as she followed the adolescent mass to the Great Hall.

She almost stopped when she entered the room- if it could be called a room, you could fit her entire apartment in here- and her eyes gravitated to the ceiling, with all the other muggle- raised fist years, at first wondering if the school had run out funding at the last minute and never built the ceiling. She was pushed forward rudely by a white- haired girl wearing a white hair ribbon behind her, and a few of the older students laughed.

It seemed the upper years at the tables used this method to identify muggle-raised first-years, more out of sport than anything, except for the table on the far left. They didn't bother to pay attention to them. They all locked eyes with people who they seemed to already know were bound to them. Stina noticed the girl from earlier with the frying pan, sitting with the fifth-years.

Too focused on the odd behavior, Stina bumped again into the back of the girl in front of her. The first years had stopped. Peering just above the head of the girl in front, Stina noticed a grotty, ugly, slightly charred hat on a stool in front of them.

She considered what the hat was for- wizards, from what she'd seen, did some pretty… well, fucked up things with inanimate made food come alive, for fuck's sake. She was _never_ buying another Chocolate Frog. It was the same reason she wasn't a fan of farms; she didn't want to form any sort of emotional attachment with her food. But the hat- what was the point of the hat?

A giant rip just above the brim of the hat suddenly opened, and began to sing heartily in a deep and gravelly voice-

" _A thousand years or more ago,_

 _When I was newly sewn,_

 _There lived four wizards of renown,_

 _Whose names are still well-known:_

" _Bold Gryffindor from wild moor,_

 _Fair Ravenclaw from glen,_

 _Sweet Hufflepuff from valley broad,_

 _Shrewd Slytherin from fen._

" _They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,_

 _They hatched a daring plan,_

 _To educate young sorcerers,_

 _Thus Hogwarts school began._

" _Now each of these four founders_

 _Formed their own house, for each_

 _Did value different virtues,_

 _In the ones they had to teach._

" _By Gryffindor, the bravest were_

 _Prized far beyond the rest;_

" _For Ravenclaw, the cleverest_

 _Would always be the best;_

" _For Hufflepuff, hard workers were_

 _Most worthy of admission;_

" _And power-hungry Slytherin_

 _Loved those of great ambition._

" _While still alive they did divide_

 _Their favourites from the throng,_

 _Yet how to pick the worthy ones_

 _When they were dead and gone?_

" _'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,_

 _He whipped me off his head_

 _The founders put some brains in me_

 _So I could choose instead!_

" _Now slip me snug around your ears,_

 _I've never yet been wrong,_

 _I'll have a look inside your mind_

 _And tell where you belong!"_

The hall broke out in a quick roll of polite but unenthusiastic applause, which quieted in barely a minute, before Professor Longbottom brought out a ridiculously long roll of parchment, and began to shout out the first few names on the scroll.

"Arlovskaya, Natalya!"

Stina silently watched the proceedings go on, hearing the hat yell out houses and the various cheers and it all seemed to blend. She didn't know any of these names. Rose... when would she be up, she listened to Rose for a few names before she remembered her name was Wease... weasel, something like that. It was a W, that was the point.

'Jackson, Sonia' was just Sorted into Gryffindor before she heard her name be called.

"Kohler, Christina!"

Stina jumped at the voice, and started to walk to the front, getting a bit more nervous with each step, all eyes on her. Three of the four tables' eyes anyway. It seemed the fourth, the green-and-grey one, was totally apathetic to which house she was Sorted into.

She slid in her seat up at the front, gulping as the talking hat was put on her head.

 _"Hmmm..."_ the Hat's voice suddenly appeared in her head.

 _"Deeply muggle life... not particularly brave, but a bit too self-servient for Hufflepuff... hmm... ambition, ambition runs through you, it's becoming clear who you are. No bias, either- unusual for these times..."_

"Holy fuck a mind-reading hat."

" _...You know, you're only the second person to do that ever."_

"The fuck? Seriously?"

" _The other was also today, coincidentally."_

The hat was silent a moment, as if in debate with itself. Stina shuffled nervously on the splintered stool, anxious as to what it was considering. The sudden voice made her jump-

" _Miss Kohler, are you truly as confounded by this world as you seem?"_

She thought a second: No wifi, No phones, Parchment, _Candles._ How was she supposed to contact the outside world? How was she supposed to show her magic to her muggle friends, keep caught up on her abundance of ironically shitty cartoons, for fucks sake-

The hat gave a deep, chuckle. " _And you wish to change that?"_

No thought needed. A curt "Yes."

" _Then I expect great things from you."_

She tried to think another question for the hat, but then was cut off when the hat's voice sounded loud, outside her head:

"Slytherin!"

Stina waited in an awkward silence for a few moments, but when the hat was not lifted, felt the need to lift it away herself. The student body was staring at her, eyes scrutinously unpicking her movements, seemingly unable to believe her Sorting.

She turned around to see matching expressions of shock and disbelief on the faces of the staff- especially the red-headed Headmaster, who was glaring furiously at both her and the hat, alternating between the two. She shuddered, finding the gaze of a thousand shocked eyes to be much, much less terrifying than _his._

Professor Longbottom then reached and tensely took the hat from her and put it back on its' wooden pedestal. He then pointed to the Slytherin table on her far-right side, where Stina walked, taking her seat next to 'Cooper, Jennifer', still being watched intensely.

This silence carried on, and she tensed as the tension grew and grew- surely her Sorting wasn't _that_ unusual? She self-consciously turned her face down at the brass plate in front of her, irrationally checking that she hadn't gone all Wicked Witch of the West or some shit. Even still, she jumped when she heard the first voice after the hat's exclamation.

"May we please continue before we starve, Professor Longbottom?"

The stoic, deadpan tone came from one of the staff members- a pale blonde woman sat adjacently to the Slytherin table. Whilst her colleagues still seemed shocked, her expression was decidedly neutral. Her dark blue eyes pierced through the professor, almost attackingly, but from her side view Stina looked close, and sensed that her eyes held both fear and… something else. She couldn't be sure.

The dark haired man stammered. "O-of course." He cleared his throat, and croaked "Laurentalis, Toris!"

As the next nervous- looking boy was sorted into Hufflepuff, Stina was still acutely aware of the room's fixation on her mere existence. Her attention was now also divided to the sorting, desperate to hear who else would be called to Slytherin, and if they'd receive the same eyes she had.

Not so. There were only four more Slytherins- the two threadbare boys she'd seen in the boat, and two other girls- 'Peterson, Ruth', and 'Wilcock, Lauren'. Both received lukewarm applause from the green-bedecked table, and the blond boy- Scorpius Malfoy, if she heard correctly- was actually hissed at by the yellow, blue and especially the red tables as he descended. Stina had made no move to show adulation or discontent with any of them. She would have rather disappeared.

Albus and Rose- Potter and Weasley, damn it, her memory was crap- however, were met with humongous cheers from the other end of the room as the were both Sorted into Gryffindor almost before the hat touched their heads. Albus looked so relieved to be welcomed with open arms by a cheering crowd, but Rose contrasted against him, looking somewhat disappointed amongst the roars of the lions.

When the last person was sorted- 'Woods, James', into Ravenclaw- and the disappointing applause died down, there was a short moment with silence so thick that it was almost tangible- dripping with anticipation- before the fiery-headed man who had glared at her so fiercely arose from the gilded seat at the centre of the staff table.

The headmaster- at she presumed he was- was not an intimidating man at first glance. As a rough estimate, he was in his forties, lean and lanky, with a ragtag mop of receding ginger hair that was growing grey at the temples. But his face held something quite different- a determination as sharp as a sheer cliff face, and a coldness to rival the Scandinavian winters. Grey eyes glared from beneath an unkempt fringe, portraying a passive indifference towards those in front of him- as if he had another purpose.

He smiled as he began. "Welcome to another great year at Hogwarts, students, and a extra special welcome to our newest firsties-" he quickly surveyed the tables with a nod of the head. "I would like to remind all of our houses to uphold to rules within reason-" he sent a incredibly unsubtle wink to the rightmost table, to be met with a loud "Whoop!" from James Potter "and that Hogwarts is really all about living life to the fullest, and learning from past mistakes."

Stina heard a small scoff of outrage from her left. The blond boy- Scorpius, had to remember that- she was sat next to was was stiff as a board in suppressed rage, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned even whiter. Looking around, most of the Slytherin table was in various shades of misery, from guilt, to anger, to a glare of outright hatred from an albino boy at the far end with the seventh years.

He carried on. "And as a great man, one of my predecessors, said before his unfortunate, unjustified end-" more quiet but indignant squeals of outrage, and a regal, dark-haired third year gripped his glass so hard it almost shattered- "'Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!'"

The headmaster waved his hand a few times across his throat. "That's all from me. Weasley out."

Suddenly, with an exaggerated flourish of his hands, plates and plates of food appeared on all four tables, fit for a great feast. Stina then looked at the food, and down leveled it to good. She then took a load on her plate and took a bite. She nearly gagged and saw that her tablemates had gone about eating the food with much, _much_ more reluctance.

Scorpius reluctantly poked a fork into a lumpy pile of mashed potato, twisted his face and gives up, grabbing an apple instead. He took a bite, grateful they didn't wash it in the pond water before they served him, then cleared his throat. He glanced around and inadvertently locked eyes with Stina, then diverted his gaze slightly and spoke, addressing both her and the boy next to her.

"Ummm.. hi."

Stina put down the fork that held the sorry excuse for a pork chop- somehow even worse-tasting than ordinary English food. "Hi…," she said, letting the words hang.

The dark haired boy- Nikolas Raev, if she remembered correctly- nodded towards him. "Malfoy." Scorpius sighed, resignedly, as if defeated, and then met Stina's eyes with his own tired grey ones. "You're name's Christina, isn't it?"

"Stina," she said. "Christina is just the thing on my birth certificate that pretends to be my name."

He gave a slight chuckle- as if the very idea of laughing was unnatural to him. "Scorp's fine for me too, if you like... heh, I don't even know what my dad was thinking." he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Nikolas interjected with his deadpan voice. "Stay with the naming traditions of the family with at least one Light member."

"Light member?" asked Stina, to whom it seemed the term was straight out of World of Warcraft.

Nikolas scoffed- "You don't know?" and explained in an exceedingly condescending manner. "The ones who fought on the winning Side in the War. Gryffindors." The girl gave him a blank stare, to which he raised his eyebrows. "Surely you know? Your parents were on the losing side, after all."

Stina furrowed her brows. "Uh no," she said. "My dad's not magic so I'm guessing he wasn't part of that war thing? At least he's never mentioned it?" she shrugged.

Nikolas rolled his eyes in what must have been a trademark sarcasm. "Sure. My paternal family hasn't spent the last two decades in Azkaban. Cohen's' grandfather didn't finance the entire coup d'etat. Peterson's' mother didn't change her name from Parkinson. Malfoy's father didn't kill Albus Dumbledore." Silence fell over the first years. The two girls mentioned stared downwards guilty at their feet, and Scorp seemed ready to jump his dorm-mate in sheer anger."So really. What did you do?"

Stina only blinked, once again no recognition in her face. Though this time it might have been a liability, or so it seemed. "I literally didn't understand anything you just said."

"You're New Magic?" asked Scorpius.

Stina turned her head, "If that means like... a parent doesn't have magic then yes, I guess." she said indifferently.

The first years glanced around in shock, and though there were less eyes, they were starting to feel like those earlier thousand.

"So, your family hasn't even been involved in any of the purist uprisings?" asked Scorpius, whose eyes were the most curious, the most shocked, and therefore the worst.

Stina began to tire of the incessant questioning. It was getting all up Spanish Inquisition in this bitch; she definitely hadn't been expecting this."Sorry, but I'm not even sure what those uprisings are," she said decidedly defensively.

Nikolas showed a quick glimpse of expression- amusement- for the first time. "Well, shit. If you're not connected to any of the Magical wars, you've gotta be dark as fuck for the Hat to put you here."

"Excuse me?" Stina said, turning back to him, agitated.

Scorpius concurred. "There hasn't been anyone from outside the Dark families in Slytherin in twenty years." The four other girls nodded, all the food seems to have been forgotten.

"Wait, the fuck? I was told there were other people in this school who like... didn't grow up around magic." Stina exclaimed, loud enough to draw a few straying ears from the neighboring tables. It seemed eyes were also caught, especially from a sleepy-looking boy who began watching fascinatedly from upward on the Ravenclaw table.

"Not in Slytherin, look around. Not even a Mixed-Magic since _his_ defeat." One of the girls- she thought it was Lauren Wilcock, but didn't really care- gave Nikolas a small slap.

"Then... I'm in the wrong dorm or something?" said Stina, volume decreasing, but enough attention had been drawn that someone else from the boats, a bright ginger boy with pointed canines, was also staring.

Nikolas rubbed the upper part of his arm, where a stinging bruise would probably have formed in the morning. "Probably. That or you're in exactly the right House and you'll grow up to decimate everyone and our entire way of life."

Stina turned again, "Decimate everyone? Are you implying I'm some sort of fucking serial killer?" Volume was back to prior levels, even attracting the attention of a few of the younger Hufflepuffs.

"That's the only reason anyone from outside gets in," Nikolas said.

"I'm not," Stina scowled. "Well, I'm from outside, but that's beside the point- I'm only here because a fucking hat told me to go here. A fucking hat, why is there a fucking hat to do this!?"

"Don't insult the hat. It's a war veteran."

"Yeah, and I'm sure some fucking... rainbow knitted scarf that like... tells you your sexual preference did D-Day." Stina said, mistaking the dark- skinned boy's monotone sincerity for more sarcasm.

"No. That would be asinine." said Nikolas. "What would be the purpose? And at eleven years old? It would just call out the most inappropriate and personal things just at the cusp of puberty, causing further confusion. And it would certainly not have lead the war against Gellert Grindelwald."

"...You mean Hitler?" asked Stina, praying that if they didn't know about the good non-magic shit, then at least they'd know _something_ about mass genocide. Everyone knows about at least one mass genocide.

"Who?"

"Holy fuck." She slammed her face into the table, narrowly missing the mediocre food. "You guys haven't even heard of Hitler. Fucking Hitler."

Scorp furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait- isn't that the guy that Ludwig and Gilbert's grandpa worked for? You know, Deutsch Warlock Rudolf Heiss?"

"...Wizards worked for Hitler."

Scorpius just shrugged and took another bite of his apple. "Apparently. Like I say, we could be talking about two totally different people here. What did he do?"

"I don't even...forget it," sighed Stina. "Do you know anything non-magic or am I going from nothing?"

Scorpius smiled sympathetically. "You're at a bit of a dead end, really."

Stina groaned, and brought her face back down to the table again, forgetting about her uneaten meal. Though thankfully, before she could successfully cover her face in substandardly bland British fare, it vanished right off her plate, denying the very basics of the conservation of mass, and was replaced by a soft cake-like substance filled with raisins in copper-plated bowls on the centre of the tables.

She poked it suspiciously with a spoon. "What is this?"

Scorpius suppressed another giggle as she dug her spoon in and took a bite.

"Spotted Dick."

She spat out the food, which landed on a third year's robe. Nope, she was not going to eat it, thank you very much.

" _Entschuldigen Sie mich, Fraulein_!?" said the third year in a thick German accent. "You ruined my new robes!"

"But Roderich-san, did you not also spit out the dick when you first tried it?" asked a Japanese boy who sat next to him.

"But look what she did to _my robes,_ that muggleborn can't even be trusted with food!" pouted Roderich.

Suddenly, a spontaneous stiletto materialised out of nowhere and almost poked one of his eyes out, which would have been highly amusing in a vengeful sort of way if Stina had been concentrating, and not glaring intently at the other tables. Fuck Gryffindor and their chocolate cake; fuck Hufflepuff's apple pie; and _especially_ fuck Ravenclaw and their fucking strawberry pavlova. She was here eating metaphorical diseased penis, wizard god dammit!

Hearing a clank of metal on metal beside her, she turned and saw Scorpius still happily eating. Noticing her stare, he looked up and shrugged. "What?"

She glanced at his dessert. "Why are you still eating that?"

He looked confusedly at her. "Hey, I'm paying for this; I'm gonna eat it." Then he smirked evilly. "After all, I don't mind a bit of dick once in a while."

Stina burst out laughing as the asshole who she'd spat food on almost choked on his tea. She kept laughing, eyes streaming, until she and her tablemates noticed that Roderich was turning purple. Needless to say, he had to be taken to the hospital wing.

* * *

Stina was relatively familiar with soft drugs for someone of her age. That was not to say she'd tried them all, but she found she had the power to generally tell what someone was on.

But she wasn't sure what the fuck the architect of this school was on, and what the site managers must have been on to approve this.

The halls winded with pretty much no order to them, and well… the moving stairs were kinda cool she had to admit, but it was when she met the red house- Gryffindor, she thought it was- near a landing and both were waiting on Hufflepuff to go down the stairs that she realized just how shitty this could be.

She noticed Rose at the tail end of the first years watching while Albus was swamped by a larger crowd. The other girl was looking rather lost- Stina doubted she'd ever been forced to interact with either a large crowd or anyone outside of her immediate family.

There was a large groan from the Slytherins- the staircase had moved, leading in totally the opposite direction as to where they actually needed to go, so she guessed they'd be stuck for a while. Not entirely keen on starting up a new conversation with Scorpius or that Bulgarian dickhead, Stina opted to walk over to the other side of the landing and talk to Rose again.

She tapped the new Gryffindor on the shoulder, who was leaning over the bannister, staring downward."Hi, again," Rose said, almost silently, as Stina began glancing down to the bottom floors as well. "Why are you over here?"

Stina indicated over her shoulder with her thumb. "Stupid staircase moved again, so I guess we're stuck."

"No, I mean, why are you over _here._ " Rose made no effort to lift her head to look at Stina, nor move over from staring straight down. "Gryffindor and Slytherin don't mix."

Stina looked at her with a mix of surprise and disgust. "Um… I'm pretty sure that the color of robe doesn't decide who I want to interact with…"

"No, you don't understand. We _can't_ mix. It's not safe for either of us, especially you." She sighed, still not looking up. "This is that House stuff I said I'd explain. Something happened to the school, nearly twenty years ago, the whole world nearly went mad, and Slytherin-"

"HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"

Stina jumped at the boisterous American voice- well, more boisterous than the average American voice- and saw an older, blond haired, glasses wearing Gryffindor coming right at her. And he was fuming. All eyes, both houses, plus a few remaining Hufflepuffs, turned to those three.

Stina took a slight step back. "Talking, just talking" she said, a bit too surprised to throw in something more sassy.

He was surprised too, just… not taking it the same way. "YOU CAN'T TALK TO HER!" he said, and pointed to the Slytherin line.

Stina huffed. Sure he was bigger, stronger, looked like he was ready to tear her apart, but dammit she was done with assholes today, so she stood her ground, glared, and prepared to return all the sass she could muster.

A canister of salt hit her in the face, right between her eyes, as one of the other first-year Gryffindors pulled out a crucifix. "Like, begone demon!"

Stina just stared in amazement as the blond boy began chanting in Latin as even the older boy just looked confused, and a few of the Hufflepuffs started laughing. Had he just tried to exorcise her?

"...Is this a thing here?" muttered Stina lowly to Rose.

"No, but the Lukasiewicz family has always been odd since the Grindelwald war. Everyone says there's something specially weird with Feliks."

"Right," muttered Stina, still staring at the boy before she felt another figure behind her. She turned and jumped, at first thinking she saw the American again, but the face was much calmer, softer- as was his voice. "I think you should go back to your house before Alfred-"

"MATTIE! What are you doing!?" shouted the American, head swinging around back to Stina.

"There are two of them!?" exclaimed the crucifix wielding Gryffindor.

"No no no," started Matthew, "I'm…"

"WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE!?" Alfred shouted at Stina, burying Matthew's voice. He stepped forward and grabbed her robe. "Are you going to move? Or do I have to move you?"

Suddenly a hand knocked away Alfred's and grabbed Stina's shoulder. "Let's go," said the fry-pan wielding lady, starting to move her to the rest of the green. She then looked up at Alfred. "She's going. Stay off of my first years."

There was a shout from up at the front line of Gryffindors- one of Rose's cousins who'd bombed the Slytherins on the train. "Look after your own, don't you Szalasi?"

She sent the ginger third-year a vicious glare. "My name is Hedevary, not Szalasi. That was my great-grandfather's name." She turned the pair of them away, and led Stina away, faux-smiling. "I'm Elizaveta, fifth-year Slytherin prefect. Ignore them, and try not to get mixed up again."

Stina nodded automatically, trying to process what had just happened. Slytherin didn't talk to Gryffindor, or they got attacked. It was perfectly acceptable to exorcise your peers, no adult supervision required. No doubt, this was fucked up.

She turned back to try and wave goodbye to Rose before they descended down the staircase to the dungeons, but they had already gone upwards to the lion's tower.

* * *

"Hello, first years, and welcome to Slytherin House." said Elizaveta, when they had eventually managed to reach the common room through the labyrinth of corridors under the school. "I'm Elizaveta, and this is Feliciano, your fifth-year prefects." A short boy with an equally shabby uniform waved sadly to them.

She continued. "Now we need you to remember this if you want to succeed for the next seven years of schooling-" she put massive emphasis on this- " _do what they say._ You're Slytherin, and according to the rest of them, you're evil. They'll do their best to ridicule you, taunt you, and drive you out, but you can't let them. One incident will have Professor Weasley expel you before you can say Puffskein."

"It's been seventeen years, and we're still rebuilding, but no matter how long it takes us, just remember that _we are not our parents."_

There was a small round of applause from the older years that were listening in, so Elizaveta decided to round off the speech. "Feli and I are always here for you, but we can only do so much. You've already seen what drawing attention to yourself can do tonight, so please, for the love of Merlin, keep your head down and stay safe. That's what Slytherin does."

She smiled, informed them that the common room curfew was at nine, and left to sit with the other fifth-years- a boy with slicked-back blond hair and another one who looked like he could be Thai, leaving the first years to their own devices.

Stina bit her lip and sighed a bit. She looked around the incredibly depressing common room for a plug outlet. There was none that she could see, perhaps for practicality? Looking through the mildew-encrusted windows, she thought they were under the lake, but she couldn't be certain.

She shivered, and rubbed her arms- the common room was freezing, even with a green fire burning at the hearth and tiny candles lighting the room pitifully. She wondered how the others survived, especially in winter- most of the other Slytherins she could see had hand-me-down uniforms or had patches sewn all over them. At least hers were brand new.

She frowned and decided once again to look for an outlet, walking over to the wall, maybe it had escaped her sight.

"Um… Stina?" said Scorpius from behind her.

She jumped, "Hi, Scorp," she said, turning around and leaning against the wall.

"Hi, what are you doing?" he asked.

"Trying to figure out why wizards haven't discovered the lightbulb," said Stina.

"Probably because it was invented by muggles."

She shrugged. "True that." Looking around and still seeing no sockets, she decided to inquire. "There's no chance of a plug outlet anywhere around, is there?"

He blanked. "I have literally no idea what you just said."

Stina sighed, gave up, and resolved to ask her dad to send her a battery-powered charger in the near future. She sat down on one of the black leather sofas with the ripped cushions next to him. "So what's actually with all the Houses and shit?"

Scorpius was incredulous, but still had to ask. "You really don't know, do you? You are New Magic?"

"Fuck," she sighed. "For the last time, yes. I did not know this school existed until I got a letter, a fucking letter, about a school that's named after a heavily infectious bacterial growth on an ugly ass pig."

He snorted in laughter, but then suddenly grew solemn. "Well, seventeen years ago there was this war, with Slytherin on one side and the other three houses on the other, but it was led by Gryffindors."

"A war? Within a school? The fuck, why would the fucking students in a fucking school go to war within their own school. You're supposed to do that with other schools in several levels of violent and nonviolent ways."

"Can I finish?"

She sighed. "Sure. Sorry."

"It wasn't just in the school, but the outside Wizarding World as well. Loads of people ended up dying, especially on the Light- that's Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, by the way- side."

"Everyone thought Slytherin was going to win, because back then we had all the money, all the power, and a lot of political influence. But the Slytherin leader, Tom Riddle, was killed in a massive battle right here, at Hogwarts, in a lucky accident. The Slytherins gave up, and were later captured and punished for the war crimes, and since then only the children of Dark wizards have been in Slytherin."

He pointed around. "That boy, the one with the really blond hair- that's Tino Vainamoinen, and his aunt blew up the Thames bridge. You remember the Japanese boy at the feast? His grandfather was responsible for the death of three hundred people during raids on Muggle homes. And Feli's uncle Romulus is a leader of a feral dark tribe of werewolves in Italy."

"Wait, werewolves!?" cut in Stina. "Like, that's actually a thing that actually exists?"

"Yeah, and vampires too."

Stina gasped. "Holy shit, Twilight could be real!"

"What?"

She sighed. "Muggle reference. Carry on."

"Okay...so now Light families go to the other three houses, as well as all the New Magic witches and wizards- the students who don't have magical parents."

"Until me," Stina cut in.

He shrugged. "Yeah, until you."

Stina sighed. "Well damn. I wondered what was so weird about it earlier- this explains a lot. Except like… how I ended up here."

"Well, I think it's quite obvious."

Both blonde heads spun round to face the new addition to the conversation; Stina groaned. "The fuck do you want?"

Nikolas grinned, enjoying the awkwardness. "Clearly you're more dark than anyone in this room combined. How else would you explain New Magic in here, when there hasn't been anyone more than Mixed Magic even before 1998?"

He leant on the back of the sofa and pressed his face incredibly close to Stina's until their noses were also touching.

"We await your rise, my _Odne Heks._ "

 _Dark witch. Evil witch. Burning witch._

"My name is fucking Stina, asshole," she fumed, pushing him away from her, and slapping his face, hard enough to make it sting red. "I am not your evil queen."

He ceased rubbing his face and smirked, rejoicing in his dastardly success as an asshole. "Don't worry, it took the last Dark Lord seven years to makes his first deliberate kill. You've plenty of time to catch up, _Heks."_

"Why are you being such a cockhead? What the fuck have I done already to you to deserve this!?" she yelled, then stood up. "Whatever, I'm going to bed, I can't fucking deal with this shit. See you tomorrow, Scorp."

She ran up the stairs, concealing her face with her enormous sleeves on her robes. As she reached the top, she thought she heard a thud at the bottom and an "Oof!" come from Scorp, but slammed the door shut and ignored it. Glancing through dewy eyes, she spotted the camp bed with the trunk emblazoned with Danish flags at the bottom and flung herself upon it.

All she wanted to do was fucking cry, but she didn't fucking cry, that wasn't her. But with the fucking asshole headmaster who already looked like he was going to kill her and that fucking asshole Alfred guy who tried to stop her from talking to fucking Rose and the fucking shittyass food and the fucking lack of any fucking technology and the fucking Bulgarian… she couldn't fucking take this fucking prison.

Her dad had homeschooled her because he said that school was a prison, and he knew that she couldn't be trapped in one. Now she had voluntarily decided to go to fucking prison, and now she was stuck two centuries away from her friends and her dad.

That's the thing about crying, even if you don't think you cry, there are times when there is nothing else, when all is cut off.

And you cry because there's nothing else you can do.

She was texting her dad first thing and getting the fuck out of Hogwarts.

* * *

Seven thirty am.

Stina shook herself awake through an eyeful of sleep in an empty dormitory. The other four girls had already gone. She groaned, remembering the night before, and climbed over to the other end of the bed, pulling off her blankets to grab her phone and call her dad.

There was a note tucked into the seam of her case on more of that stupid parchment. She frowned unfolded it and read as she yawned and slowly dragged herself back to the waking world.

 _Stina-_

 _Take as long as you need. We'll grab you some toast before Charms with Hufflepuff at eight- but if you're still not there, we'll tell them you're at the Hospital Wing, okay?_

 _Nikolas has felt the wrath of the Slytherin girls._

 _EC, LH, RP & LW (Your roommates)_

She smiled softly, and leant back on the barred headboard. If things got better, maybe she'd stay another day.

* * *

 **DeathbladeMeister: You know how long this is? Twenty-eight pages. You know how long it took to write? THREE DAYS. (aronz: Over about a month) Fuck you, Aron, stop invading my notes! Updates will not be regular, I'm afraid, as he's near Boston and I'm usually in Britain, and it all depends on timing, fandom rotation, and how much tea I am able to consume in one sitting.**

 **Please leave follows, favourites and reviews, and if you don't like the fic, constructive criticism please!**

 **Next time: Moony's Secret Stash!**


	2. Chapter 2

**DbM: THIS. TOOK. FOUR. BLOODY. MONTHS.**

 **I blame the Nargles.**

 **Aronpuma: Hopefully the next one will come out quicker. We're on different continents but well, we love writing this. We shall keep writing.**

 **DbM: haha** _ **hahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAH *collapses from caffeine high***_

 **Aronpuma: Enjoy!**

 _Chapter Two: Moony's Secret Stash_

* * *

For all the shit the school had, magic was still pretty fucking cool.

Stina stared down at her wand, somewhat paying attention through her first ever class in magic. Magic, that was actually a subject to be learnt, though it was surprisingly boring. And this piece of wood she was absentmindedly playing with was how she was going to use it.

Well, the guy had yelled at her in the store when she said it was just a piece of wood. It was really eucalyptus wood with a core of unicorn hair or something, but more than that it apparently chose her. That was definitely not normal, because this was an inanimate object. Then again, this wasn't the only inanimate object she'd encountered that wasn't actually inanimate.

Goddamn stairs. Some objects didn't deserve sentience.

"Class dismissed," finally called the Professor- that Fartkick guy that had come over. He seemed pretty much the same at Hogwarts as he was at her flat- pretty good teacher, nice guy. Still short.

She clumsily shovelled a mass of textbooks into her bag as her Hufflepuff desk partner stared in disdain, but judging from the smile on her face, she found it kind of funny. Anyways, Stina started to follow the crowd of green. It was potions next, quickly checking the schedule that Scorpius had copied out for her.

 _Oh, fucknuggets. Gryffindor._

She did not want to deal with that Alfred guy again. Wait, he was much too old, he was a fifth-year or fourth-year, he wouldn't be in this class. But the Polish guy, the exorcist one… ok, granted, that one was more weird than annoying. But she didn't know rest of them, and fuck, Rose would be there, and their prefect tried to kill her in front of them.

Well, not explicitly murder, but still! She was worried about Rose and the others. Had the American tried to hurt them too?

She suddenly grabbed onto the railing as she realized not only that she was on a flight of stairs but it was moving while she was on it. Fuck, did the wizarding world not have lawyers? She was _so_ suing for injury claims if there was.

Stina groaned as she noticed her classmates descend down the stairs to the dungeon. She had literally come from down there not ten minutes ago! And run all the way to the second floor, to be told to leave almost immediately. Were they shittting her?

She clutched the banister, cursing her general unfitness and the wizarding community's disturbing fetish for endless flights of stairs. There had to be an easier way. Though looking up, still wheezing, she noticed something.

She was still holding on to the bannister.

Stina examined it a moment. Smooth, stable, unlikely to break. Rotating spiral. Underground staircases didn't move. Polished marble, maybe? Not that it mattered anyway.

She grinned, and jumped.

She flew past the other Slytherins at breakneck pace, sliding backwards down the helical stairway, screaming in ecstasy as she kept accelerating, quickly reaching the second level of the dungeons before any of the others, even the Gryffindors.

Still with a massive adrenaline rush, she dismounted, and panted as the bottom, having to sit for a moment on the bottom step.

 _Best. Idea. Ever._

She stood up and leaned against the banister, waiting to see the her fellow students, traipsing down to the dungeons at the speed of a drunk slug. The first footsteps were of Albus, who skidded to a stop and gaped at Stina when he saw her at the bottom still alive, still intact and smiling.

"Woo!" Stina said, grinning manically and doing a fistbump in between his eyes with a playful smirk.

"Ooof!" said Albus, as exorcist boy walked straight into him.

"Don't stop on the stairs," giggled Rose, sidestepping past the two boys. They soon continued on, leaving Stina at the bottom to be passed by the rest of the Gryffindors. They pretty much all seemed entertained- and an Asian girl whom Stina thought remembered her name, but actually only remembered she was one of the last girls Sorted- even offered Stina a small wave.

Her house soon came after them. Scorpius was among the first, and gave Albus a confused look. Albus turned around at the footsteps, locked eyes, and then turned and darted onto class. Scorp blinked and continued down over to Stina.

"You beat the Gryffindors," he said to her.

"Fuck yeah I did," she grinned, holding out her fist.

His eyes widened, and kept staring at the clenched hand in front of him. Somehow he managed to turn even paler, and if you looked closely, there was a slight tremor in his shoulders, line of sight never actually leaving her hand. After a few moments, Stina was officially creeped the fuck out at what he was doing and moved her hand away, causing Scorpius to relax significantly.

"Um…" she said. "Does the wizarding world not have fistbumping?"

"What do you do with fists?" asked Scorp, eyes widening.

"No like… a fist bump like… make a fist," she said.

"Why?" Scorp asked, pulling back his hands defensively.

"Just… whatever, forget it," Stina sighed, "let's go, we're going to be late."

Scorp followed Stina, scratching his head at the weird New Magic girl. Was punching each other some sort of ritual? He just shook his head as the two entered the potions dungeon where they were met with their blond, cross looking teacher.

He was quite young- early thirties, perhaps- and wore tight-fitting forest-green robes. He was sitting at his desk, unmoving, as the first-years huddled at the back of the room. This positioning remained for a good few minutes, students twitching awkwardly by the door, the professor breaking off blocks of chocolate one at a time and eating it, watching them.

Stina shuffled her feet- surely this wasn't going to be the whole class? Just standing up, waiting for some creeper to notice they were the-

 _BANG._

The group of twenty eleven-year olds jumped- and Stina swore later she heard a scream from Albus- as one of the eerily steaming potions blew up in a shower of purple sparks and spewed acrid-smelling black smoke. The explosion completely melted the cauldron, reducing it, and most of the desk under it, to a sickly, honey-coloured goop.

The teacher put down his chocolate and waved his wand, clearing up the bubbling mess, having not even flinched.

"And that," he said, "is why you never, _ever_ , mess around in my class."

Stina nodded slowly with the other students who weren't too stunned to respond. He then pulled up a paper. "In my class you will be learning about potions. Some classes, you will be making potions. During those classes, you will have very specific instructions, and you are to follow them, to the letter. In addition, to such consequences as this," he said, pointing to the desk.

"Any student who deliberately goes off the directions will receive a failing grade for the assignment and a detention. Gryffindors, you can ask Alfred Featherstonehaugh Jones where he spent most of his time in his third year if you feel I'm lying."

He pulled up a paper, very straight, very proper, very precise in front of what must have been his cadets. "Now for seating. Each of you will be assigned a seat next to someone. There will be assignments in this class where you will be working with a partner. You are partners with the person you sit next to. No exceptions."

Professor Zwingli walked over to the first desk, "Feliks Lukasiewicz, Nickolas Raev."

Exorcist boy sat next to the asshole; it seemed Zwingli wanted green with red. "Rose Weasley, Christina Kohler." Stina went quickly to her seat, swallowing, hoping the awkwardness would be away.

"Albus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy." There were a couple gasps as the two stopped in shock. There were some murmurs for the houses sitting together but this? This was insanity. Surely he didn't just put _a Potter and a Malfoy next to each other._

"Get to your seats," ordered Zwingli, to which Albus and Scorpius quickly obliged, sitting in collective fear of their pseudo-drill sergeant teacher.

As Zwingili seated the last two, he went back to the front. "While I clean up the mess, get familiar with your partner. I am cleaning this up because it is unsafe for you. And unless it is unsafe, then I am not your maid. _Everybody cleans up his or her mess."_

Stina ran a hand through her hair a glanced over at Rose, "Um… hi, again," she said.

Rose smiled. "Well, as we're forced to be together, I see no reason why we can't engage in cordial conversation, Miss Kohler. After all, this is purely a terrible situation brought on by a Potions Master who is oblivious to the socio/political nuances of prepubescents."

"Or he's psychotic and thinks he's still in the war and the administration is too afraid to fire him," shrugged Stina.

The Gryffindor giggled lowly. "That is also entirely possible."

"Yeah, or he finds it funny, like, look at Scorp and Albus over there," the Slytherin pointed.

The two were looking at each other, not directly, but looking. It was the most gorgeously awkward thing ever.

"Scorp is Malfoy?" Rose said in surprise.

"Yeah, he has a really weird name, Scorpius. But he's like… the opposite of a scorpion. I don't know why you would name your kid scorpion either but like, whatever. Not as weird as Albus though. Albus I just don't get as a name. Did he get it in Greenland?"

"Five points from Slytherin."

Stina stared at her teacher, mouth agape, shocked at the senseless pandering to the system which she'd considered her previously kind of cool teacher to be above. "What, why?"

He sauntered over, leaving his desk for the first time, and lowered his voice. "I understand you're New Magic, Kohler, but please understand that there are some subjects that are not meant to be breached." He glanced around subtly for a brief moment, as if he was looking for a listener. "Many of those connected to the Potter family are subjects of that nature."

Stina watched him walk back to his desk and began to teach the lesson, getting the class running with their first potion. The process went smoothly enough, though the partner aspect was not to most groups' pleasure. As Rose and Stina finished theirs a bit more quickly, it made an entertaining to Nikolas in the common room later, Feliks threw holy water at him at least four times.

Professor Zwingili said this would be the case for most assignments, and they would continue to work in pairs for the full year as only one person making a potion in the first year would "inevitably cause the death of you, your friends, and most importantly, me,"- but all it seemed to do was leave an awkward silence interrupted by the occasional asking of directions. Stina eventually bored of the ambient clank of cauldrons, curiosity still piqued, and turned to Rose.

"What the fuck was that?" she hissed across at her partner.

Rose shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know, but I think I might have to owl my mum. Pass the hemlock roots, would you?"

"Ja," she said, grabbing the root. "Should I ask what owling is?"

The ginger girl shrugged. "It's fairly self-explanatory. Owls equal postmen."

"I almost wish that there was a weirder reason," the blond said.

"It happens. Magic can be self-explanatory and Muggles can be far too convoluted and not make sense even to the greatest of experts. Pass the newt eyes before I get disintegrated here."

"Whatever," sighed Stina, as she handed her the eye of newt.

Before realizing that she had just grabbed an _eye of fucking newt._

"EWWWWWWWWWW!"

"Oh, grow up."

* * *

Stina flinched as a piece of chalk hit her in the face.

"Hey, _cagna_ , wake the fuck up!"

Stina sighed and ceased staring aimlessly out of the window. Muggle Studies seemed to be a pretty pointless subject to be put on the mandatory curriculum, for her at least. It wasn't even like a history type class, it was like an animal planet special on muggles, except not as offensive as that analogy implied. But she had literally nothing to learn at all. You know what she could use? A wizard culture class; that'd be fantastic. And to top it off her teacher was a complete cockhead.

Her textbook- titled 'Muggles and their Lifestyles- Updated Edition'- was a joke. For an updated edition, it was first published in 1999, and was therefore filled with outdated information and almost offensive 'facts'. The chapter titled 'Common Muggle Fashion', for instance, featured more perms and baggy trousers than an episode of _Saved by the Bell_ \- if they were going to hit up 90s like that, they could have at least stolen from _Fresh Prince of Bel Air._

The style of the teaching was almost comical. Professor Vargas hardly seemed qualified to teach Physical Education, never mind a mandatory educational subject. He just swore at them for ten minutes, ordered them down and handed out a two-page quiz.

Whilst her fellow Slytherins seemed to be genuinely struggling, Stina had found the questions, which were all multiple choice, to be downright scary:

'Who is the leader of the British Muggle Government?' The Prime Minister.

'What is a primary form of Muggle transport?' A car.

'What is the British Muggle currency?' The British pound.

These were questions that five and six year olds could answer with ease. Sure, this was a totally different underground society, but come on. There was only so much space on an island, so surely someone must have seen a five pound note.

She was done in less than a minute, if that. It was September, it was twenty-five degrees Celsius outside, and she was very, very bored.

Three minutes later and another piece of chalk to a sleepy head and Stina earned herself a detention amongst a wave of giggles from the people who had spent more than a minute on the quiz- Ravenclaws, the 'smart' house.

* * *

Stina clenched and unclenched her cramped-up hand at lunch, after leaving her detention on the fourth floor. Professor Vargas was officially the worst- two hundred 'I will not fall asleep in class' whilst he ate linguine up at his desk. After leaving the sweltering classroom for the cooler corridor, she noticed Scorp waiting for her, leaning awkwardly on the adjourning wall from the door. She smiled at him, and they began to walk down the stairs.

The blond boy grinned. "Have fun, then?"

"About as much as you'd have if you stuck your dick in an anthill." She groaned, and carried on rotating her wrist in the socket. "I'm going to have blisters on this thing."

"Well then, don't get in detention Kohler," shrugged Scorp with a small smirk.

She sighed. "Okay, rewind." She mimicked the sound of VHS tape spinning backwards. "What's with the surname? No-one does surnames anymore. What is this, nineteenth-century prep school?"

"Well, what are you winding? What kind of muggle thing is that?" said Scorp, trying to regain some of his dignity from what he was pretty sure was an insult.

"You, know, rewind? Like, reversing tape? Oh, forget it," she said, exasperated. Wizards plus timely references equals nil. "We're off topic. What's with the surname?"

"Well, you didn't want me to call you Christina," said Scorps, "so why not Kohler?"

"Why not Stina?" asked Stina. "It's what everyone else calls me, 'cept the fucking teachers."

"It's just… weird, y'know?" he replied, still walking. "First names are for family. And then out here, in the outside world, you are your family."

"Yeah, but what about the Gryffindors?" Kohler asked.

"That's different."

Stina frowned, "How s- woa."

They had reached the outer courtyard which attached the main school castle to some of the supplementary buildings and greenhouses. It was clear that this was once a spacious area, but now it was dominated by a marble cenotaph adorned with silver. It was topped with the statue of a man smiling benevolently at the door into the castle, and was covered in names engraved into the surface. Occasionally the statue would move to wink at some of the older students with a twinkle in his eye, and they would return with a thumbs-up or a salute.

Scorpius grimaced. "That's why."

Stina ignored him, she was still in awe of the memorial. It wasn't even that the statue was moving that was the amazing thing but, it was almost as if light radiated from the statue. This was magical, this was a figure who could probably rival Gandalf and embody every childhood fantasy of magical powers. This was the old master from every game, and it looked real, like he still lived in the lives of the students who surrounded it.

Well, that and the tackiness was very obtuse.

She slowly walked toward the statue, looking to find a purpose to the memorial. Instead she saw first a name:

 **Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore; Order of Merlin, First Class; Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.**

But there were also other names, all below it. She snaked her way through the list, only really recognizing a 'Weasley,' but she did recognize that they all shared a collective designation: there were no Slytherin surnames that she recognised.

Stina turned her head at last, saw Scorpius and frowned. His stance read unsteady, like he should be ready to run away somewhere. Malfoy's mouth however read a disgust, not really focused at the statue or her or anyone around them just, unfocused, she couldn't know.

His eyes though, Scorpius's eyes created a visage of true fear. Looking out he saw something he seemed to have to fear, but he could only look outside, he didn't blink. Stina began to wonder why he wouldn't avert his eyes, if something more terrifying was visible when they were closed. But all you really saw when you closed your eyes was black- and that black is yourself.

Wow, quill ink was _so_ much better than Sharpies. That shit was definitely kicking in.

She turned her head back to the statue, for it didn't really look like Scorps was going to move, and took a step closer. She wanted to read these names closer, see if there was any more she could read, see if there were any Danish names.

Scorpius glanced nervously around, aware that there were a few suspicious glares heading their way from around the courtyard. "Hey, Kohler, I don't think you should be that close to the thing."

The girl waved him off, still squinting at the names carved into the rock, seemingly unweathered by time. "S'fine, Scorp, I'm just looking," She suddenly straightened up, and spun around in a fluid motion. "Wait, if I get too close, will Magic Fancy Santa blind me?" she said, indicating with her thumb to the statue on top.

"Uhh… I don't think so."

She sighed in relief. "Good." Crouching down on her knees, she began to read the names once again, face almost pressed onto the column.

"Umm, excuse me?"

The two first years whipped around, Scorpius far more apprehensive than Stina. The boy addressing them was tall and lanky, with sweeping gold hair and fringe falling in his eyes. His top button was open and a Gryffindor tie hung lazily out of his pocket, but a Head Boy badge shone on his robes.

"Sorry, but could you take a few steps back? The people around are starting to look a bit murderous."

Glancing around, Stina noticed that many of the other students in the courtyard were suddenly smug rather than suspicious. It seemed as if no-one wanted them close to the memorial, but were now happy believing they'd get a good talking-down too.

The older boy ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it messily out of his face and somehow changing it red as he did so. "I'm Teddy, Head Boy."

Scorp gave a little squeak like a kitten on helium and clutched his bag so tight his knuckles turned white. Stina gave the other Slytherin a look of confusion- okay, head boy, seventh year, Gryffindor. All the things to be scared of sure, but so far he was much nicer than most of the other asshats she'd met.

She held her hand out to shake the older boys'. "Stina Kohler, first year."

The boy's face suddenly broke out into smirk and he let out a small laugh. "Yes, I know who you are."

"Oh… um…" trailed Stina, who felt like someone out of the joke as her hand remained stationary in the air.

Finally, he shook the outstretched hand firmly. "Hey, Kohler, if you need someone to talk to, or somewhere to stay…" he said, trailing off as he gave a small glance at Scorpius, before grinning brightly again. "You just need to talk to me or Victoire Weasley- that's the Head Girl. Don't be afraid to come to us. We don't bite." He let off a dry chuckle, as if sharing an inside joke with himself.

He gave Scorp a curt nod, saying only "Malfoy." to him before he left and proceeded to walk back across the outside yard.

Stina just stood there, watching him walk away with a look of utter befuddlement on her face. "Well, that was weird."

Scorpius was also staring, but not at Teddy, but at his dorm-mate. "Did you not know who that was?"

She sighed again. "Nope. I thought we'd been through this, I am completely oblivious to the whole 'Important People in the Wizarding World' malarky."

"That was Teddy Lupin, Kohler."

"Yes, it was."

"No, you twonk, Teddy _Lupin-Tonks."_ he said, pointing to indicate to a pair of names close to the top of the cenotaph.

Stina's eyes flashed over to the inscription, taking a second to focus in and finally get from the Hogwash of weird wizarding names:

 _Remus John Lupin._

 _Nymphadora Lupin-Tonks_

Well, fuck.

* * *

Stina didn't really know schools that well, but something seemed off about Hogwarts- besides the whole being a magic school with moving staircases and talking hats and shitty food thing. She had already done two magical based classes, one about nineties culture with the asshole professor, and she was going to something later called "Defense Against the Dark Arts," which she guessed was the PE equivalent? But now that she was heading to History of Magic, something occurred to her.

When did she have a Maths lesson, or Science?

She wasn't really that good in Maths to begin with, so it wasn't the biggest loss, but it felt really weird that literally no one mentioned it. Though Science she supposed was covered through like, Potions and that Herbology thing she had tomorrow- oh, and Astronomy, that was every Friday night. But no Maths was kind of weird, because she'd always had to do it a lot. She couldn't complain too much she supposed; she certainly wasn't going to. But then also, where was the English class with like, reading and writing and grammar and shit?

She was actually somewhat good at it, that and Danish. Not to say that she was expecting Danish anyways. Her dad had gotten her some Danish books and long ago had explained that the English couldn't be arsed to care about a perfectly good language. They were too busy speaking like Americans. Well done dad for being an accidental racist.

But anyways, she was now entering History of Magic. Why not just call it History? They didn't call it Charms of Magic, Lunch of Magic, Muggle Studies of Magic.

Alright, granted that last one made less sense. But anyways, History.

She probably would have guessed that this was the English room, because the walls were lined with bookshelves with muggle books, magic books, books that she couldn't tell if they were magic or muggle. And many of them weren't even in English, but Norwegian, not Danish. The only other major feature of the room was a small coffee maker between the blackboard and the door to the teacher's office.

As the last of the students meandered in, a name suddenly began to hover above each desk, appearing in blood red sparkles as the lighting of the room darkened. It stayed dark for a few moments until the lights slowly brightened again, though only in the before the front desk, where their teacher stood behind.

"Welcome to History of Magic. I am Professor Bondevik."

She was a somewhat young looking lady, who wore a blue, more muggle looking outfit than pretty much any other teacher. Really it was her skirt; it was shorter than some muggle schools would allow on their students. The professor went to continue on.

"Most of you who have wizard and witches as your parents have been, in only the narrowest of definitions, taught, by Professor Binns. He was the Professor here for several centuries. Now, it is to my knowledge that his class was not one of learning, but a nap time for his students."

"Rule number one," she said, leaning over her desk and giving her students a menacing glare. "There is no sleeping in my class. In my class, there is a coffee pot," she walked over to the coffee, her heels echoing in the silent room. "If, at the beginning of the class, you feel like you need this, you may take as much as you like. If you finish the pot, then you better damn well brew another."

She walked back up to her desk. "You will not sleep in my class, because that could be dangerous. History is your one guide on your actions in the magical world. Hogwarts students have not been educated in history, however, for the past several centuries. Also, in the past few centuries, the majority of wars have centered, on, or in England. There are many reasons for this trend, which we will be discussing, but I believe first and foremost, it is because students have not been learning their history. That is not my class. If you do not understand something, you ask. If you do not ask, you do not learn. And if you do not learn, you make mistakes."

The congregation of Slytherins and Gryffindors just stood, there, not exactly sure how to follow up after the speech. One of the Gryffindor boys gave an awkward cough at the opposite end of the dusty room, and the students and their teacher stared at each other awkwardly.

The young woman swished around, and began to ascend to her lecturing podium. "Take your seats."

The students scurried to their assigned desks as quickly as wizardingly possible, and Stina found herself comfortably in the back-left corner of the room by the window next to Scorpius.

The professor pulled out a huge bright-red tome and began to read aloud in a soothing, melodic voice:

"Hogwarts was founded in the tenth century by two witches and two wizards, after whom the four houses are named. Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin.

"This was the first school of magic to be created, and it is still the only one in Britain. Today, It is one of the eleven major magic schools recognized by the Ministry of Magic. Subsequent schools in France, Sweden, Austria, Bulgaria, Japan, China, Canada, Brazil, Egypt and Liechtenstein have been set up, discounting smaller schools that do not fit Ministry requirements, of which there are over one hundred.

"Hogwarts has been the site of many major battles over the last eleven centuries. Most of those here should be able to name at least one."

There was a low grumble of agreement around the class.

Bondevik took out her wand and began to use it to draw on her blackboard behind her. "Surprisingly enough, Muggles and their conflicts often coincide with our own. There was great unrest in the 1990's between East and West Europe in the one incident we know."

She turned back to face them, having drawn a small grid on the blackboard. "Who can name me any battles within Hogwarts?"

Several hands were raised, and she called upon them, writing each down as she went in a specific place, as if the grid- and the answers- were prearranged.

"Battle of Sangrine Legacy, in 1612."

"The North Tower Fire, 1666."

"The Grindelwald Attacks in the forties."

She finished writing the last one up at the top and addressed her class.

"Now tell me the corresponding Muggle event."

The class looked around blankly, clearly having no idea what events these were, and not knowing how to admit this to their stoically intimidating teacher. Suddenly eyes began to dart around the room, looking in desperation for someone to have the answer. All Slytherin eyes, if they had a place to go, went to Stina, but some of the Gryffindors were already ready to answer. Bondevik pointed to a hand.

"The North Tower Burning was during the Great Fire of London," said a boy in a somewhat questioning tone.

"Correct Jesse," said Luka, writing the event next to the battle.

"The Grindelwald Attacks were during World War One." said another boy.

"Incorrect Finn," said the Professor with the same flat tone, "It was World War Two." She put the war on the board, turned, and hesitated slightly, before calling on a hand.

"In um, 1612 there was the Pendle Witch Trials?" said Stina. Heads would have turned at a Slytherin answering questions about _muggle_ events, but for this Slytherin, heads turned even quicker.

" _Korrekte_ Christina," Professor Bondevik said in a distinctive Norwegian accent. It had been present in every other word she'd said, but it was much thicker now. "Five points to Slytherin for knowledge of an obscure Muggle event."

"Takk," said Stina, bringing her hand down. Korrekte was just like the Danish word for correct, just with a 'te' sound at the end, and she supposed the Danish just flew out of her. They weren't dissimilar languages, after all. Cancelling her train of thought, she returned to concentrating on her Professor's lecture. It was certainly the most interesting class she'd had all day, and she supposed that is was kind of like a wizard culture class.

* * *

Scorpius shook his head, putting a hand over his mouth to contain his giggles. "No Kohler, we're learning to fly on _brooms,_ what else is there to fly on?"

"I don't know, vacuums?" Stina gave a shrug. "I keep telling you, the only things I knew of the wizarding world before coming here was a letter and a speech from Filbert."

Scorps blinked. "Filbert?"

"I meant Flitdick!" said Stina indignantly.

Scorpius was about to ask that out of all the staff, why was the poor Charms professor the only one whom she could not remember before he was rudely cut off by their prick of a housemate.

"Aw, is the wittle dark wady mad?" cut in Nikolas, walking up next to Stina with a sneer.

"Fuck off," replied Stina, shooting him a glare. "Why don't you just go back to losing us points by yawning in Bondevik's class."

"Oh yeah, because you just love Professor Bondage-vik, and she loves you. So what were you saying in that dark lady language?"

"It was Danish," snapped Stina.

Nikolas broke out into laughter. "What a shit language, you know you only speak it when your mother drank for all nine months."

"Fuck off!" seethed Stina. "How about you go sew your fucking mouth shut you… you maggot brain!" she said.

"What was your mother on when she taught you that one?" asked Nikolas. "Or did you just get it after sipping that aquavitæ in Potions? _Or,_ maybe it was that Gryffindor bitch you were tal-"

He suddenly walked right into a Ravenclaw first year, who was waiting with the rest of the class for the broom closet to be opened. Nikolas, gritted his teeth and went to shove the boy out of the way. "Hey! Get out of my way, bird brain."

"Excuse me?" said, the boy, turning his head and flashing _his_ teeth in front of Nikolas's eyes. He let out a yelp and stepped back, while the Ravenclaw let out a haughty snicker.

Stina took a step away from the two, putting Scorp between them. She was seething, and not even the sound of Nikolas's fear could mitigate her anger. She started to flex her left hand again; it was still hurting from detention.

"About time the Slytherins got here," sneered the Ravenclaw. "Let's see. Raev, _Malfoy,"_ he said in a particularly condescending tone, "and whoever _you_ are."

"Stina." She glared at him, crossing her arms.

"Oh yeah! You're Kohler." The Ravenclaw smirked.

"My name is Stina," she repeated in deadpan.

"Alright, Kohler," he said, continuing to smirk. "You're being pretty cute."

"I'm not cute," Stina seethed. _Shit,_ she was crap with names. Which one was this? Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw… was this the stoned looking one, the nerdy one or the one that looked like a bad vampire knockoff?

"Oh," he said, looking down at her and putting a hand on his chest. "I am so, _so_ sorry for you Kohler. Sincerest apologies from the Drakyula family."

Vampire knockoff. Vladimir Drakyula, that was his name.

Nikolas snickered at Stina, and was about to chime in before suddenly going silent as Madame Hooch walked over. The Ravenclaw turned and smiled pleasantly at their instructor.

"Hello class, for this term you will be learning how to fly," she began. "You will all be assigned brooms with a number, so when you're called please get your broom and remember your number."

The instructor unlocked the closet and read off the parchment in her hand. "Vladimir Drakyula, you will have number 1260."

"Thank you," smiled young Vladimir as he walked up and got his broom. Stina grumbled a bit and waited to be called herself. She soon found herself assigned with broom number 666- heh, so accurate- as she walked out the field with the rest of them. At least Nikolas and Vladimir seemed to be shut up with Hooch around, as they were arranged in two lines, Slytherin facing Ravenclaw. Stina examined Vlad's face, watching him give such an intoxicatingly _innocent_ look before her hearing kicked back in with Madame Hooch's instruction.

"Stick your right hand over the broom, and say, up," told their teacher, and a chorus of ups began to cry out. She felt a whoosh of air to her left as Scorps's broom went right to his hand as she repeated, up. The broom at first did nothing.

Stina grumbled, sighing down at her broom. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath, then said "up." The broom wabbled a bit, starting to rise, but then fell pathetically. "Up," she hissed again, and the broom started to go back, as if inching away from her.

She gave a long sigh, looking down at her broom, "Please," she said in a pleading voice, and the broom stopped moving. She then looked down and said again "up."

The broom flew up quickly and hit her right hand hard. She closed her hand around it but winced in pain. What a great broom.

Though it seemed that 'please' really was the magic word.

She then saw most people had already moved on to mounting the brooms and she quickly did the same, though probably too rushed as she was not lifting off the ground. Granted, no one really was. She was about to kick her feet off the ground when she felt a whoosh of air again as Scorpius started to ascend higher and higher into the air

She did a small clap as he came down shakily, though from the surrounding people she was the only one. Everyone else was either keeping to themselves or giving Scorp a bit of a look. Perhaps it was envy, perhaps it was the fact that Malfoy was better than them, but either way Scorp looked to Stina.

Stina looked away from Scorpius, and sent a glare at one of the onlookers- Vladimir. His gaze soon shifted to hers, and he let out a smirk, raising his eyebrow. Stina blinked, but found him not focused on her at all now. Vladimir kicked his feet off the ground, and soon began to ascend as well. He smiled before the group, his ascension quite smooth. "Very good." nodded Madame Hooch. "Now lean slightly forward and descend to the ground."

Vladimir began to lean forward, the tip of his broom smashing right into the fast rising broom of Nikolas. Nikolas's broom cracked, causing him to fall at the low height while his broom broke straight in two, one end flying off.

Stina's eyes followed its arc, as it jabbed an innocent bystander square in the side. Stina watched the boy collapse as his friend knelt over, grew panicked, looked up and called to Madame Hooch.

"Madame, Roderich-san is bleeding."

Hooch sighed, in a way that is only used by someone with thirty years of exasperated experience. "I will be right back, I want all of your feet firmly on the ground." she sternly warned, as she marched over to the injured third year.

Stina started to laugh as Hooch fell out of earshot and glanced at the Vlad. "Nice, you got a third year, and he wasn't even part of this class."

"I didn't do anything, Raevs' got the broken broom," he smirked.

"Oh yeah," smirked Stina, as she broke out into obnoxious laughter and dropped her broom to clutch her side. She wasn't sure why she found this so funny… no, the look on Nikolas' face told her exactly why.

Nikolas got to his feet, looking absolutely pissed. "Of course you'd laugh," he sneered at Stina. "If you're going to be the next dark lord."

Her mood shifted, "The fuck you going on about now? It's fucking schadenfreude, even Scorp smiled."

"Well, we can expect that from Malfoy," said Vlad.

"Excuse me?" said Stina, turning to Vlad.

"Only the Dark Lord would defend a Malfoy," sneered Nikolas.

"Can you just fucking shut up?" she shouted at Nikolas.

"Please." started Scorpius.

"Don't please me," started Stina. "I don't see how you could please anyone. You're as Slytherin as I am." she added quietly, watching his face twitch in annoyance as the ginger vampire Ravenclaw gave a broad smirk.

She waited for a reply, but was met by an ensuing silence as Madame Hooch had returned. Stina turned her head and saw the lady staring down right at her. Stina gulped.

"If you are so ready to chat I trust you've figured out the lesson?" asked Hooch. "Why don't you show the class."

Stina looked down at her broom, going to reach down and grab it.

"You have to order it up," reminded Scorpius in a low, nervous voice that echoed across the empty field. Stina stood up straight quickly, sweating as she muttered, "Up."

She looked down at the unmoving broom, and said it again, but still nothing. Several long moments of silence ensued before she finally shouted in a cry of desperation "Up!"

The broom suddenly swung clear up and knocked her right in the side of the head. It stayed straight up as Stina collapsed on the ground in an unconscious heap.

* * *

Stina groaned and pressed the large block of ice to the egg-sized bump on the side of her head. Stupid brooms, stupid infirmary, stupid school nurse. Walk it off, she said. No you don't have concussion, she said. No, you have definitely not formed a large brain haemorrhage in the last eighteen hours, she said.

Fucking bitch. She probably didn't even know what a brain tumor was.

Professor Flatwock was still talking, going on about some guy who magically summoned a buffalo to land on his chest. That seemed a little asinine, really- who would develop such a spell, and for what purpose? And why make it so close in pronunciation to an actual useful spell? For Merlin's sake, guys.

She pressed down hard with the quill, taking notes angrily on the parchment, snapping the nib. The girl swore softly, and reached down for her back, searching for her spare quill. Rifling through the chaos of the bag, she found five textbooks, nine bottles of quill ink, two rolls of duct tape and a screwdriver. But not a single spare quill.

She should have just brought a fucking pen, but _that_ probably wouldn't have been antiquated enough for the school.

Cursing her own distracted idiocy, she quietly poked her desk partner, a bespeckled Hufflepuff with long brown hair. The other girl looked up from her elegant cursive notes, and nodded silently as she watched Stina indicate to the busted point of the feather. She handed over a long white owl quill, and the Slytherin grinned in appreciation.

"Thanks."

She balked, not expecting to be spoken too. "It's no problem. I have several."

Realising that an actually prepared classmate would always be useful, especially at the rate that she seemed to be breaking quills, Stina decided to introduce herself. "I'm Stina Kohler, by the way."

The other girl still seemed very wary of the other, and began nervously playing with the long braid that fell over her shoulder. "I'm Renee Celei."

"Heh, cool name. French?"

"Monacan, actually."

There was suddenly a sharp smack at the side of Stina's head, right on the painful mound where she had taken the ice off for a brief moment. A balled-up piece of parchment bounced on the floor, and an indiscreet chortle came from the row of seats behind them, where a certain housemate pillock sat.

She hissed in pain because _fuck,_ that stung. The blonde girl replaced the ice on the mound, clenching her fist on the table. She then leant over, resting her forehead on the cool wooden surface as she tried to take in anything from this lecture between the regular headache pangs.

Renee leant over, looking concerned through her glasses. "Are you alright?"

Stina turned her head to the side, face held completely neutral. "Clearly."

The Hufflepuff sighed, and reached down into her bag again. Stina sat back up again with her curiosity piqued, trying to figure out the sheer scope of what she carried. When the other girl left the contents of her seemingly bottomless bag, she had with her a large green box, which she then flicked open and began pulling out objects.

She brought out two packet of pills covered in silver foil and a bottle of water. "Take two of those- unless you're allergic to aspirin, which in case take those." she said, pointing at each packet in turn. She then removed a facecloth from the box, and taking the ice, wrapped it around. "Placing ice on a head injury is pointless unless you cover it, or you'll just bring all the blood to the painful area and make it worse. Keep that on, and not only is it less painful to hold, it'll melt slower, and you won't need to bother the nurse again."

Stina did so, and swallowed two of the aspirins gratefully. "Thanks a lot."

She smiled. "It's fine. I always carry this stuff around."

The Slytherin watched her pack her box again, and methodically place it back in her schoolbag. She was somewhat surprised that Flickdick hadn't noticed them. "Why? Why would you need half of that?"

Renee shrugged. "I have two older cousins, and they're always getting injured. One's always making girls attack him and the other is clumsier than an intoxicated hippogriff. I just guess I learnt to make sure they were okay, because they're more tolerable when they're not complaining."

Stina grinned. "As good a reason as any."

She laughed through her nose, making very little sound. "I suppose so."

"So are your cousins at Hogwarts?"

They carried on chatting quietly through the rest of the class, exchanging small pieces of information. Renee's cousins were at Hogwarts, and a fifth-year Gryffindor and a fourth-year Hufflepuff, respectively. She liked the library and the lessons in general, yet was reluctant to divulge the location of the Hufflepuff common room and the kitchen to Stina, which thoroughly disappointed her. Overall, the Monacan girl was a shy, straight-laced student with a penchant for over preparedness and a little-girl sense of humour.

She was nice, and Stina supposed they could be quite good friends with both effort and corruption on her part.

The lesson ended with the bells ringing the lunchtime chime, and they stood up and packed their things. Stina caught up with Scorpius, who was waiting by the door for her, when she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

The small Hufflepuff smiled shyly. "I'm sorry to ask, but last Charms lesson you took my textbook by accident. I didn't want to say anything last time, but could I have it back, please?"

Stina facepalmed with her free hand, remembering the mad rush to shove all her book in her bag in the first lesson the previous day, and nodded.

"Sure, I'll run down and get it now. Could you wait in the dining hall with Scorp while I go?"

The other girl nodded. "Of course."

"Okay. Renee, this is Scorpius. Scorpius, Renee."

The blond boy reached for the Hufflepuff girl's hand. "Enchante, madame."

Renee looked delighted. "Oh! Parlez-vous français?"

Stina left the two to chat away in French as she began to sprint down the stairs to the Slytherin common room. She reached the bottom exhausted and panting, and began to trek down the winding corridors within the dungeons. It was simple really, just had to go left, then right, left again and then, no, right. No didn't turn at this one. Wait, she wasn't supposed to pass the potions classroom, that was like, a different section. So left then… fuck…

She was completely and utterly lost.

Now this was pretty shitty. There were no portraits in the dungeon, so she couldn't get friendly directions from a helpful knight or talking dog or troll ballerina or something. There were no fellow students around, and the Potions professor was also nowhere to be seen. It just wasn't fair. They should give Slytherin a tower like the other two houses, at least those are easy to find.

She vowed to get a map when she went back upstairs and started down the hallway that she was by no means sure actually led anywhere, but there were doors at least. Maybe one would have something. Hell, maybe one would have the Hufflepuff common room behind it.

Turning to her right, she began with her first door.

Door number one: Potions stock cupboard.

Door number two: Trophy room.

Door number three: Hidden swimming pool.

She blinked. There was even a sign that said 'Hidden Swimming Pool.' Looking in, she found the water was perfectly pristine and the pool was clean, but she shuddered. Who maintained this pool, and why did they?

Stina stepped back from the door and shook her head. She shut the door, ran a hand through her hair, and continued on through the basement.

She continued on walking through the low lit hallway that she was surprised was lit at all. And every door seemed to bring a new sideshow attraction, ranging from quirky to unnerving to horrifying to severe. By door ten she was starting to skip doors, but she had well entered a dull monotony of at least peering through the keyhole to see if she'd be interested in the contents of the room.

Around door twenty was what looked like a gateway to hell- with all the fire and brimstone and with a demonic Zool creature and everything. Her hand lingered on the door knob, but the excitement of hell could not quite drive her. It could just as easily feel the same as the rest of the castle.

Around door, twenty five, or thirty was a supply of forty-year-old chocolate labelled 'Moony's Secret Stash'. At one hundred was a room full of fit-inducing flashing lights, one-fifty was a house-elf graveyard covered in trees made out of socks. At room two hundred… was she keeping count right? She couldn't be, she couldn't have been down here that long- if she was she'd be late for her class, someone would be looking for her. Then again, no one had ever looked for her before; she'd only been at the castle for less than a week.

Maybe she'd go back to the chocolate room and eat herself to death, let Professor Zwingli find her in twenty years. Maybe then there would be enough care to at give new student some sort of map of the grounds.

Oh look, room three hundred thirty seven, topiary dolphins. Stina sighed, hitting her head against the door frame. Really she had brought it on herself, but what else was she supposed to do, pretend like this was normal? Nothing about this school was remotely normal. Why didn't anyone else remotely get it?

She checked the next door, hoping for someone or— blech, it was some brown cesspool, that smelled like two hundred year old shit. She pulled away, thinking she heard someone and turned her head to either side anxiously, but no footsteps. It must have been her echo. She closed the door, and started to the next, cautiously optimistic that she had indeed heard someone.

She'd skipped enough doors, thinking about how she was alone, so she finally opened the nine hundred and ninety fourth door, expecting an equally pointless room like the others. Taxidermied rainbow jackalopes, maybe.

Instead, however, was a distorted image of a red-and gold room through a lattice, surrounded by a glittering silver outline. The image moved almost fluidly, giving it an ethereal, mythical aura, like it was alive. Stina, eyes unblinking, reached a tentative hand out to the floating window, and gave it a quick prod.

It felt incredibly strange, as if all the molecules in her finger were coming apart. It felt cold and detached, but not necessarily _wrong,_ as one would expect it too. Rather, it was just a very odd phenomenon. It was almost like her fingertips were joining it.

She pushed her fingers in and watched it vanish further and further within the image. It began to feel far more liquid than one would imagine, swirling around her digit swiftly. As Stina walked further to the glowing window, she noticed that her finger was visible on the other side, and more of it with every further movement.

It was a portal.

Stina took in a breath, taking a moment to admire the sheer wonder of that, then taking in a quick shallow breath. Head first, she burst through the aura to find herself in a dank, sweaty, stanky place. She deduced that this was the airing cupboard in the Gryffindor common room with the warm, stinking school robes. And The Gryffindors were clearly visible through the criss cross door, doing homework, laughing, or generally being teenagers.

Stina's blinked, staring at it and quickly frowning. They had a _much_ better common room than they did. But as she took a slight step back and felt her foot hit the aura, her brain seemed to expand. There was a random passage here, but these kinds of things don't just happen. She thought to herself, turning her head back to look at the portal:

" _I wonder if there are any more?"_

Her heart started to beat quickly. This was amazing, and this was not here. If anyone had heard about this she did not know but she figured it would be a rumor that would have passed into her ears by now. This was her discovery- hers to use, hers to abuse. With all the possibilities at her disposal; Merlin help Gryffindor.

She suddenly blinked, turning back to the room and standing up straight again.

" _Wait,"_ she thought to herself, rummaging through her thoughts. " _Merlin help? Fuck, it's been two days and I'm already cursing like them."_

She shuddered, drawing back out of the closet and back out to the corridor. She quickly ran back through the hall, her mind straining through all the discoveries of this escapade: the portal, the hall, the pretty cool ass rooms. It would only be later when she ended up on the Astronomy tower that she'd remembered she'd been totally lost.

* * *

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